Patience is a Virtue
by originella
Summary: Patience Tressa Catherine Gregory is of unknown origin - she is the illegitimate daughter of Joshua Poldark and of Catherine Penvenen, the younger sister of Ray Penvenen. As such, she is the half-sister of Ross Poldark and the cousin of Caroline Penvenen. Taken in and accepted by Ross and Demelza, she is later forced into living with Caroline, who vows to bring her up as a lady.


Chapter One: The Estate

All I had was a crumpled address on a piece of parchment, and the knowledge that I had to guard to carefully, as were my mother's last words. I was only seventeen-years-old, and with the words Nampara, Cornwall scrawled on the parchment, I knew I had to find it. The only other possessions I had were hastily folded by me and placed into my mother's suitcase. I rummaged through her tiny wardrobe, and managed to find a few things that would fit me, while the halfway-decent-looking few would go into my suitcase to sell upon the road, should I have need of coin during my journey. I put on my nondescript coat and hat, stepping into my boots and making sure that one of my last two pairs of stockings did not have holes in them, and then I gathered my things and left that tiny cottage in Bournemouth where I had spent all my life.

The roads were awful and yet I managed to find the main one which led out of town quickly enough to catch the first carriage of the afternoon. I paid the agreed amount for passage to Cornwall, hoping that there would be safe haven for me there at whatever thing Nampara place was. I didn't decide to ask, rather, I feigned sleep throughout the journey inside the carriage, keeping a close grip upon my suitcase in case a thief decided to snatch it. The journey, I'd been told, would take seven hours, if we were fortunate, so it was good that I'd been able to leave the cottage as soon as possible. Knowing Mama, she would have likely neglected to pay the rent man; I'd been careful not to leave any forwarding address or any other information, so as my disappearance would remain a mystery.

One of the things Mama had left me was a golden locket, which shimmered in direct sunlight. She always wore it, save for when she lay dying; with one of her last ounces of strength, she had unfasted it from around her neck and put it into my shaking palm. It was studded beautifully with four pearls, which made a pointed flower, with a ruby in its center. This I now kept around my neck, knowing what the letters GP meant, for they stood for my mother. However, the notion that they were entwined with the letters JP meant, to me at least, that they belonged to someone that she must have loved a great deal. As she died, she informed me that JP was my father, and that all the answers would be found eventually.

I would not allow sleep to overtake me as the carriage bounced along the road, and found myself gripping the suitcase as if my very life depended upon it. It could not have been more than four hours, but I knew that if I fell asleep, then surely, I would drop the suitcase filled with all I owned and then all would be lost. I forced myself to remain awake as the journey continued, knowing full well that I could not allow myself to drift into the temptation of the comatose state. I was quite tempted to pull the dark curtain aside and peer out the window at my surroundings, but I was nervous to even consider what the other passengers would do, so I kept my eyes averted and kept to myself.

I was shocked that the carriage driver actually seemed to know where this Nampara place was, and was equally surprised that it was a nicer cottage than the one that Mama and I had shared. I quickly pulled my suitcase into my arms fully as I stepped out of the carriage and thanked the driver. He tipped his cap to me and then whipped the horses with a mighty, "Yah!" and soon the carriage disappeared down the lane.

I inhaled the salt air all around me, feeling free at last; the carriage driver had told me that the cottage itself was just up the hill, but I feigned interest, having already seen it myself. I walked over to the edge of the cliffs around me, my suitcase suddenly seeming like I light weight to bear, and watched as the waves crashed against the smooth rocks. There was a beach below with beautiful sand, and I felt at peace for the first time in my life, almost as if I belonged there. I watched the waves as they continued to crash and the sun set around me, when hoofbeats from behind me startled me, and a great wind picked up, my hat flying off and the pins coming out of my hair, which fell around my shoulders.

"Can I help you, miss?" asked the rider and, turning, I felt a gasp escape my throat as I laid eyes upon him. It wasn't the scars, which seemed etched in his skin, it was his striking resemblance to the male portrait inside my locket, as well as to me. He noticed it too and dismounted, keeping a firm grip upon the reins as he stepped towards me then. "Who are you?" he asked. "Do I know you?"

I shake my head at him. "No, I don't think so, sir," I reply. "I..." I looked past him and towards the cottage. "I was on my way to Nampara..."

"Nampara? What do you want with Nampara?"

My eyes flash back to his, and I ask the next question quickly, although I believe I already know the answer. "Do you know it, sir?"

"I live there," he replies. "What do you want with it?"

"My mother is dead," I say.

The man sighs then, lowering him eyes. "I am sorry for it. May she be granted good rest."

"No, that is not all," I say, and he raises his dark eyes to mine again. I reach into the pocket of my coat and hand him the piece of parchment. "She told me to come here," I say in a rush as he opens it. "I don't know why," I say to him. "She said to me that—"

"—that things would become apparent shortly," he says, reading my mother's script and looking back up at me. The wind takes the opportunity to blow up from the sound then, and my locket is exposed and immediately, his eyes seize upon it darkly. "Where did you get this?" he demands quietly, reaching for it, yet not making a move to take it from me.

"It was my mother's," I reply. "She was called Gabriella, and she always told me that the GP meant her, and the JP meant the man she loved, and the man that, she told me, I would call father."

The man does not let the pendant go, and merely raises his eyes to mine again and shakes his head. "This was a gift from my father, Joshua Poldark, to my mother, Grace, when I was a boy, after the birth of my brother," he replies. "She bade him take it from her upon her death, and to give it to whom he may love the most... He said a woman called Gabriella was from—"

"Bournemouth?" I ask quickly, before he can say so, and his eyes widen at my quickness and ability to know such things. "It is the same, isn't it? Your father, who is..."

"Yours," he replies, and, without hesitation, pulls me into his arms. "I did all I could to find you when I returned from the war," he tells me, "but I could not find you, no matter how much I looked..." He pulls back from me then. "I am Ross Poldark, your brother."

"I am Patience Catherine Gregory, your sister," I reply, "although nobody calls me 'Patience', and I much prefer Catherine."

"Catherine Poldark it is," he says, taking my suitcase from me and leading his horse into the grounds of Nampara, a stone wall surrounding the place. As we step through, the front door opens and a lovely young woman stands there, with skin as pale as mine and curly, red hair. Her eyes take me in with shock as she turns to Ross and shakes her head, filled with disbelief. "Demelza, look at our good fortune!" he says.

"Ross, by all the saints, what have you...?"

Ross lets me go, handing my suitcase to Demelza, which I quickly take back with an embarrassed look as he moves to put his horse in the stable. "Catherine has come home to us at last," he says, securing the horse for the night before coming back toward us, taking my suitcase again.

"Catherine?" Demelza asks, turning towards me.

"My sister, Catherine Poldark," Ross replies.

Demelza's hands fly immediately to her mouth as she steps forward and pulls me into her arms. "Ross has spoken often of you!" she says, pulling back from me and taking me by the hand. "Come now—you must meet Jeremy and Clowance," she tells me breathlessly.

"Jeremy and Clowance?" I ask, not wanting to stumble into the house. "Who are they, may I ask?"

"My son and daughter," Demelza replies, grinning at me from over her shoulder as she pulls me into the kitchen.

"Mama!" Jeremy says, and Demelza kisses his forehead, but then Clowance begins to cry as she feels left out.

"Oh, dear," I say, pulling out the chair next to her and sitting beside her. "Don't be sad, please, Clowance," I say, smiling at her, and the baby hiccups. "It's so nice to meet you both."

"This is your aunt," Demelza explains to them. "Aunt Catherine."

"Aunt Caterine!" Jeremy chants.

"No, no," Demelza says, but I laugh a little and her eyes snap to me.

"I rather like the sound of Caterine," I tell her.

"It's all right," Demelza whispers to me, "you don't have to..."

I smile at her. "I know," I reply. "My mother called me 'Patience' when I was in trouble, but mostly she called me..."

"What?" Demelza asks.

"Tressa," I replied. "She once told me that it was my real name, but I always believed that it was Patience, and I always wanted everyone to call me Catherine, ever since I was a little girl..."

"Tressa, meaning 'third'," Ross says as he steps into the kitchen with a smile. "I'd bet that your mother figured out that our father had two sons before you, or he told her, or he was fully aware of you. I hope the latter is the case," he replies, sitting down heavily at the head of the table. "You never mentioned how old you were, Tressa," he says with a smile, and I laugh at him.

"Oh, very well, then," I reply, shaking my head. "Tressa it is. I am seventeen, Ross, just last month."

"So I was eighteen when you were born," he says, thinking it over. "My mother was already gone, and I take solace in that fact."

I nod. "Of course. I want nothing from you, Ross, truly..."

"You shall have all we have to give," Demelza says quickly, getting to her feet and putting her arm around Ross's shoulders. "And you shall of course stay with us for as long as you have need, Tressa. What can you do?"

"Do?" I ask, turning to Ross for an explanation.

"Around the house," he said helpfully.

"Well, my mother taught me how to cook, clean, read, and write. I can also knit and sew and I'm good at stitching my own clothes. I found I have a proficiency for darning socks," I say, and notice that Ross is amused by that fact.

"How did you learn to read and write?" he asks.

"The archbishop at the church in Bournemouth taught me," I reply. "My mother paid him what she could and I received lessons starting from the age of five. I was taught French and Latin as well, but I don't suppose they would be of much use to me, for I know nothing of society, and I fear that my talent for languages will go justly unwanted."

"Can you play an instrument?" Demelza asks, looking from me to Ross. "Our former cousin, Elizabeth, can play the harp."

"No," I reply. "I sing. I sing throughout the household chores, just passing my time until it comes time to cook dinner," I say softly.

"What do you like to sing?" Ross asks.

I smile, and manage to think of a tune and coming up with one that was suitable even for Jeremy and Clowance to hear me sing. "Girls and boys come out to play, the moon doth shine as bright as day; leave your supper and leave your sleep, and come with your playfellows into the street... Come with a whoop, come with a call, come with a good will or not at all. Up the ladder and down the wall, a halfpenny roll will serve us all. You find milk and I'll find flour, and we'll have a pudding in half an hour..."

"You have a gift for music I see," Ross says, smiling at me and turning to Demelza with warmth in his eyes. "Perhaps you can assist her with learning the piano, my love, so as her hands and mind are kept idle."

"And we should introduce her to Caroline and of course to Dwight," Demelza puts in, turning to her children as they begin to drift off. "Maybe it would do him some good to meet your sister."

"I shall visit him tomorrow morning and ask him," Ross replies, turning to me promptly, "and _you_ , my dear little sister, shall accompany me to Caroline's estate at Killewarren on the morrow. You shall sit with Caroline and speak to her of your life in Bournemouth—she does love a good story, our friend Caroline."

I bite my lip and lower my eyes. "Such a thing wouldn't be proper," I reply. "It would be unseemly for someone like me to even presume that..."

"What is the matter?" Ross asks, confused. "Demelza..."

"Ross, put the children to bed," Demelza says abruptly, giving Ross a firm look and he acquiesces rather quickly, taking Jeremy by the hand and Clowance into his arm before walking with them out of there and up the stairs. "What is the matter, Tressa?" she asks.

I bit my lip and raise my eyes to hers. "This is my best dress," I say and, for the first time, unbutton my coat to reveal the deep blue dress that was stained and almost threadbare. "I can hardly show up at Caroline's estate in this."

"Perhaps if we were to attempt at washing it..." Demelza sighs as she bends to inspect the skirts, with caked-on mud attached to them. "Of course, it would never be ready in time and depending upon the age of the stains..."

"Too old, I reckon," I reply as she raises her eyes to mine, "far too old to even attempt to get out now, I fear. Mama she...she never put regard into how clean your clothes were, as long as your body and hair were so..."

Demelza sighs, returning to her chair beside me and pulling me into her arms without ceremony. "Well, Prudy is visiting the village tonight, and she will be along tomorrow to help with the children. Our housekeeper," she tells me with a quick smile as she pulls back. "And Jinny, my maid, should be along in the morning to help with the cooking. And you need not fret about a suitable gown, my dear—I have a few to spare and you shall wear them. We shall also bathe you tonight, I think, and you shall sleep in Ross's study."

I sigh, rolling my shoulders. "I can see that you are better off than I was with my mother, Demelza, but if you and Ross have difficulties, I have some of my mother's things that we could sell, to pay for my upkeep..."

Demelza raises her hand quickly before I can even complete the thought. "No, and I know Ross couldn't bear to take it." She clasps my hands in hers. "If and when the time comes for you to be married, we can sell those then for your dowry. But I know Ross and I would like to see you in love first."

"Love?" I say, leaning back into my chair so that her hands fall away as she looks at me curiously. "Oh, love... I hardly think so, Demelza. No man will ever look my way..."

"Not now," Demelza says, laughing.

I swing at her and hit her gently in the shoulder. "Not kind!" I cry out, grinning back at her.

"Once you're scrubbed up—hair washed—and in one of my gowns, no man shall be able to resist you," she tells me. "And once you come of age, they shall be knocking down the door to ask for your hand."

I shake my head at her. "I doubt any man shall ever look upon me with any kind of romantic favor, Demelza," I reply. "They'll likely see through my name of Poldark and think I'm just a common urchin, fit only for the gutter..."

"You _are_ a Poldark, Tressa," Demelza tells me firmly, "one look at your face tells me no different. And anyone who speaks ill of you shall have to deal directly with Ross himself. He'd want no ill will to come to you."

I manage a smile her way as I roll my shoulders. "Mayhap my fortunes now shall change, now that I know I've got a family."

"You've got a family," Demelza replies, embracing me again as the back door comes open behind us then.

Rain pours from the dark sky out of doors, and, upon pulling away in my shock from Demelza, I see two young men standing there, dripping. The younger goes to stand by Demelza with a kind smile my way, but the elder remains in the doorway, staring at me. I don't know what to do, so I merely remain in my seat, hands folded, until both men sit down at the table, after the elder has shut the door behind him. Demelza gets to her feet then and gets some bread from the counter, putting butter onto it before slicing some cheese. She does this to three plates, placing them before each of us onto the table.

"Was it George Warleggan again?" Demelza asks, the bitterness evident in her tone as she returns to the table, Ross entering a moment later, his eyes dark with worry at the sight of these two men.

"Demelza?" he asks, getting into his chair. "What is happening?"

"I don't know," she replies. "Sam and Drake have only just arrived and have thus far told me nothing."

"Was it George?" Ross asks, his tone equally bitter.

The younger clears his throat. "Sorry, Ross, but we've not been introduced to your guest yet," he says gently. "To discuss our business in front of a stranger is not only ill-advised, but rude as well."

"Drake!" says the elder man, letting me know that Sam is speaking. "It is impolite to presume!"

"No, it is all right, Sam," Ross says gently, as Sam turns to regard Ross. "This is my younger sister."

"I didn't know you had a sister, Ross," Drake says, smiling at me and putting out his hand in a friendly manner, which makes me like him immediately. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Poldark."

I quickly turn to Ross, who nods in agreement that Drake has addressed me right and I shakily put my hand across the table, taking his. "Pleasure to meet you, sir," I reply, hoping that I don't sound too terribly low-born.

"Drake," he says, his grin never leaving his face.

"Tressa," I tell him, and noticing that Ross is admiring the exchange.

"Is that your Christian name?" Sam asks, and my eyes turn to him as I release Sam's hand.

"I must confess, sir, I do not even know myself," I reply. "While I was christened Patience Catherine Gregory, my mother always informed me my name was Tressa, and I was always called Catherine, and yet now I've been told that my surname is Poldark. It is quite a weird experience, sir, to not truly know who you are, and yet realize that there are those out there who may care for you."

"How do you even know she is a Poldark, Ross?" Sam asks quietly, leaning in closer to my brother. "Suppose she is a spy sent from Warleggan, here to disrupt your home life with our sister?" he says, his tone a harsh whisper as he nods over across the table to Demelza.

"Sam!" Demelza cries out, shocked.

"Perhaps Warleggan would stoop so low," Sam says quietly to himself, leaning back into his chair.

"Sam, as your brother, I must tell you immediately that I will not tolerate such things said to my family," Ross says firmly.

Drake nods emphatically at this. "It is slander, Sam. Is it not God who says that we must have faith in people?"

"Tressa has already shown us proof of who she is," Ross replies, nodding at me, and I lean forward ever so slightly.

"This necklace," I say, taking my hair and tucking it back behind my shoulders, "is my proof. It was a gift to Ross's mother from our father, and then became a gift after her death, to my own mother," I reply. "My mother always said that I was not a true Gregory, and she left me a note upon her death bed, telling me to seek out Nampara, which is what I've done."

"Anyone could say that," Sam says, not impressed.

I get to my feet then so quickly that the chair squeals along the floor, and hasten to leave that place. I walk into the sitting room, where I find my suitcase, and make a move to grab it then, wanting to leave and never return. However, the old handle breaks away from it, sending the entire thing clattering back to the floor, and splitting completely in half. I make an automatic sound of exasperation as I see all my belongings littered on the floor and immediately go to my knees, picking everything up and debating whether or not to wrap everything up in one of my mother's cloaks when I see something then.

Drake comes into the room behind me, seeing me crouched on the floor, inching towards my suitcase to get something from it. "Let me help you," he says, going to his knees.

"No, no," I say, holding his hand back and briefly turning to look at him. "I'm all right, really."

"Sam isn't all bad," Drake says in defense of his elder brother, "really. He misses our father a great deal."

I purse my lips. "Well, at least you had one."

Drake sighs. "That was insensitive, I am sorry," he says, and I nod, reaching out and towards my suitcase.

There was a hidden section that Mama always told me about, but since she had been the one to pack things whenever we went to the seaside or to visit her sister in Norfolk—who had died when I was thirteen—I never even thought to look. I reached out then, forcing my hand not to shake as I did so, knowing that I would never have the courage to do so again if I did not look now. Picking up half of the broken suitcase, I flipped it over and turned it about, reaching inside to the hidden compartment as Drake sat still by my side, waiting.

There was a piece of battered and unfortunate-looking parchment inside, and as I lifted it out, a spark of recognition came to me then as I took careful note of the plum-colored sealing wax that Archbishop Nancarrow always used. Breaking it, I saw then as I turned it over that the words carefully written upon it said, _To be opened upon the time of my death_. With shaking fingers, I painstakingly opened the letter and unfolded the pages carefully.

"Oh, my," I whispered.

 _My darling Patience,_

 _I had Archbishop Nancarrow help me in writing this, for I do not know how long I shall remain with you. I am writing this when you are fifteen years of age, far too young to know now, but one day, you shall. And when that day comes, perhaps I shall be with the Lord._

 _I am very sorry to say that I could not be truthful to you in my lifetime, and so now I shall tell you with utmost honesty who you truly are. Though you were not born from me, my girl, you were my daughter, and I loved and raised you as my own as best I could. However, the Lord sayeth I could not bear children, and so he did bless me with you, but from odd circumstances._

 _Although I knew Joshua Poldark briefly, he and I were only engaged in a brief dalliance, and he gave me the locket as payment, which I kept for you. Your true mother was named Catherine Penvenen, and she was a great lady from society and from a wealthy family. I knew her briefly, when she came to Bournemouth to deliver her illegitimate child, far away from the prying eyes of her family. I was her midwife and constant companion until the end, when she unfortunately died from the pain of it all, and the loss of blood. She wanted me to tell you that she was the younger sister of Ray Penvenen, and that Ray cast her out upon knowing of the pregnancy._

 _She met your father, Joshua Poldark, shortly after the death of his lady wife, and fell madly in love with him. She wanted to make a home with him and his two sons, Ross and Claude, but her brother refused to consent to the match, believing that branch of Poldark's far too low-born for his sister, a wealthy heiress. Catherine was brokenhearted but managed to say goodbye to him before he was to be cut out of his heart forever._

 _And that, my darling girl, is how you were conceived. Archbishop Nancarrow assures me that you were absolved of sin, as you were so devoted to the Lord and you listened to his teachings so well. I know, my love, that you too were absolved of sins, and although I know such things did become evident for you, I know it shall be difficult to go on with this sudden information._

 _I shall forever be,_

 _Your mother, Gabriella Gregory_

"Oh, my," Ross agrees as I dutifully read the letter to him. His eyes snap to me then as he shakes his head in a combination of wonderment and bewilderment. "I had no idea such a person existed—half Poldark, half Penvenen."

I felt my hands trembling, so I placed them into my lap and bowed my head. "I know the Lord has smiled upon me, Ross, but I cannot know what to do with this information. There must not exist any binding contract between our father and my mother, so, therefore, I would be..." I shake my head then, letting out an anguished wail as I put my head into my hands. "God forgive me, and may me be absolved of this sin I carry..."

"God shall forgive it," Sam says quietly.

"Sam!" Demelza says, before putting her arms around me and holding me close. "I know in my heart that any person who believes in faith also knows that any child born of your circumstances cannot be blamed," she says fervently before pulling back from me. "Come." She pulls me to my feet then and takes me from the room as quickly as possible.

"Demelza?" Ross asks, following us. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to get Tressa washed and dressed," she replies, pulling me to the room beside the study, where I was to sleep. "She is a lady, Ross—far grander than we are—and must be treated as such. Boil some water," she orders. "Tressa shall bathe and be put into a good gown before she is presented to Caroline and Dwight, as their relation."

"Demelza," Ross says gently, "it is after nightfall. They will likely be attending to their evening meal, and we cannot disturb them with..."

"Ross," Demelza says, her voice firm, "I know if I had a relation that I knew nothing about, I'd want to meet them at once. Caroline is our dear friend and is likely no different. Come on, Tressa," she says gently, shooing Ross out of the room and shutting the door. "Come now, let's get this gown off you. We shall cut it up and may well save some of the fabric not damaged, but why you are wearing blue, I've no idea..."

"I like blue," I say quietly.

Demelza smiles. "I think green would be better," she says gently. "We shall have a great gown for you, my dear, as soon as Ross returns with the water."

I am like a doll to be pushed and prodded and painted, as I sit mechanically in the hot water before Demelza finishes washing my hair. She helps me from the bath once the cleaning process is completed, leaving me to sit drying off while she steals away to her room upstairs to bring me a suitable gown to wear. She fetches one with a pair of stockings and shoes, and returns in no time at all, leading me to believe that she had already considered a gown for me.

Demelza makes quick work of drying my hair and brushing it out before she laces me into her gown. She quickly puts me into the stockings and shoes before she clasps the locket about my neck and puts a new cloak around my shoulders. She fetches one for herself and we step out of the room together and towards the back of the house and into the kitchens, where Ross has returned to the table with Sam and Drake, and they all three are inspecting the letter.

"Watch the boys," Demelza tells her brothers, handing the letter back to me to pocket and handing Ross his own cloak.

We walk out the kitchen door and into the coolness of the night; thankfully, it does not rain as we walk along through the darkness. We don't go too far before we arrive at a beautiful estate through the woods and around the bend in the trees. I feel secure between Ross and Demelza, who link arms with me as we approach the front door, which is very soon opened by a servant.

My brother seems to know the man and steps forward, his voice confident. "Master Poldark, Mistress Poldark, and Miss Poldark to see Mr. and Mrs. Enys," Ross tells the man.

"Come," the man says, beckoning us inside and we are brought into an impressive foyer while the man slips into what I presume in the dining room. Whispered words are spoken and, a moment later, a young woman a few years my senior steps out with a handsome man at her side.

"Ross, they said you and Demelza were here," the woman, who I can only assume is Caroline Penvenen, says eloquently. "But I did not understand why they said a 'Miss Poldark', for there is no such person, for surely Clowance is far too young to be addressed in such a manner..." Her eyes turn to mine then, and they seem to blaze immediately in recognition. "Ross, what is this?" she asks.

"Caroline, please," Ross says, stepping forward slightly. "This is my younger sister, Patience Catherine Poldark, otherwise known as Tressa."

"Pleasure," says the man behind Caroline, who I believe to be Dwight Enys, her husband. "Always nice to meet family of a dear friend."

"Likewise, sir," I say softly, my eyes not drifting from Caroline. "Please, Mrs. Enys, if you would just read this," I say, offering up the letter to her, which she snatches from me. "I realize this is all very untoward, but I myself only came by the information an hour ago myself. I want nothing," I said as I noticed Caroline reading quickly.

"Demelza and I will provide for her," Ross says as if to assure Caroline. "She is, after all, my sister."

"And my cousin, apparently," Caroline replies, handing over the letter to Dwight without looking at him. She steps forward then and takes off my cloak forcefully as if to inspect me then. "I barely knew my dear aunt—my uncle never spoke highly of her, or at all, and I was still young when he began to raise me."

I lowered my eyes. "I want nothing," I say softly.

"Are you educated?" she asks.

I nod. "Yes, Mrs. Enys," I tell her.

"You must learn to speak up," Caroline says, a hint of impatience in her tone. "Tell me about your education, Tressa."

"I was taught to speak French and Latin, and I can read and write either," I say quietly to her. "I can sing and dance, although the woman claiming to be my mother did not tolerate such things..."

"And English?" Caroline presses. "Can you read and write in English?"

"I can," I confirm, lifting my eyes to hers to consider her expression then, and finding that she had softened ever so slightly. "Yes."

"Needlework?" she wants to know.

"I am perfectly capable in it," I tell her.

"Do you enjoy painting?"

I shake my head. "Not at all, really, although I do have the capability of weaving a good compliment for those who do."

Caroline sighs, looking up at Ross and Demelza. "My uncle failed her in not providing for her—by all rights, this house belongs to her as well."

"No, it does not," I say, cutting across her. "There was no proof of a marriage between my mother and Ross's and my father. Therefore, I stand to inherit nothing from you."

Caroline looks disheartened at all. "Well, nevertheless, I shall teach you to be a proper lady," she says. "You are how many years?"

"Seventeen, last month," I reply.

"Well, we've got time before you come of age, and then perhaps we shall find you a husband, although I doubt it shall be too difficult. We shall merely gloss over your parentage—with the right amount for a dowry, perhaps a compromise can be made."

"I don't want to lie," I say.

Caroline shrugs. "It shall all be arranged. Not to worry," she says, looking behind me at Ross and Demelza. "Is that agreeable to you?"

"She certainly would be more comfortable here," Demelza says.

"But she is _my_ sister, Caroline," Ross says passionately.

"We live close by, Ross," Caroline tells him, turning to me, "and besides, I have more time on my hands to mold and guide her."

I lower my eyes. "I don't want to be a burden to anyone."

"Wonderful!" Caroline says. "Then it is settled. You shall remain here with me and with Dwight, and I shall teach you all about society."

"You don't have to do this," Ross whispers to me. "You can come back to Nampara with Demelza and me right this moment—"

"Ross," I say gently, cutting across him, "you've Jeremy and Clowance to worry about, plus an entire household to run. I don't know what all you do there, and perhaps I would get in the way..."

"You could be a help to Demelza," he said softly.

"She's half Penvenen," Caroline says, stepping forward and putting an arm around my shoulders. "She belongs here."

"She is half Poldark," Ross counters, "and she belongs where I say."

"Ross," Demelza warns.

"You don't own me, Ross," I say, drawing myself up to my full height. "I shall stay with Caroline, so as not to get in your way."

"Come, Demelza," Ross says, pulling his wife towards the door. "We're leaving this place."

The door slams shut behind them, and I shudder at the noise.

"Now, now, now, not to worry," Caroline says as Dwight looks slightly unnerved at the sudden exchange. "Come," Caroline continues, taking me into a parlor off the main hall. "Your full Christian name is Patience Tressa Catherine Poldark, then, is it?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Well, Tressa is far too common a name," Caroline says gently as Dwight sits on a couch opposite the pair of us. "And Patience? Many people will accuse you of being Puritan, and we cannot have that."

"What do you suggest then, Caroline?" I ask, greatly daring.

"Catherine, of course, for your mother."

I smile at that; in just under five minutes, I'd been stripped doubly from my new family and from a name I'd always believed was mine. Now, I was forced into a corner with the name I had chosen for myself, only now to have it forced upon me like a half-bred mule. "Very well," I managed to say. "I shall be Miss Catherine Poldark, if it pleases you."

Caroline smiles. "It does," she assures me.


End file.
